


12:01am

by PCrabapple



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Baby Birding?, Barely Legal, Because they're both high and/or drunk I guess, Boners, Boys being gross, Dirty Talk, Domination, Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Fingering, Food, Humiliation, M/M, Marijuana, Mouth Transfer?, Oral Sex, Spit Kink, Teen Boy Violence, Wrestling, sort of creepy stalkery stuff maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PCrabapple/pseuds/PCrabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro and John pass like ships in the night. And then Bro turns around and goes full ramming speed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys know that BroJohn is legal now? I wish I could have put this out at midnight on 4/13 but inspiration took a while to hit. Not sure if there will be more.

At 4:15pm when you when you were 13, Dave first brought you over to his apartment after school. “This is John,” he said to his brother, who was standing in front of the fridge, drinking orange juice straight from the carton in just a pair of sweatpants, his body slick with perspiration. “Bro,” as you would come to know him, turned his head slightly, a bit of pulp clinging to the corner of his mouth, and nodded before going back to draining the carton. Dave pulled you around the apartment, showing you all the “cool shit” they had. Then you went into his room to play video games.

At 6:32pm when you were 14, you realized you were supposed to be home two minutes ago, and asked Dave if his Bro could give you a ride. You sat in the passenger seat of a black sports car, running your thumb over the orange stitching on the upholstery, trying to make small talk. “Your car is really cool,” you said, and Dave’s brother gave a short grunt in response, and turned up the stereo, a horrible mashup of Red Hot Chili Peppers and Limp Bizkit filling the awkward silence.

At 8:41pm when you were 15, you knocked on the door of the apartment, shifting your sleeping bag under your arm. Bro answered the door and then walked right past you, rolling his DJ equipment down the hallway. “Hi!” you called after him, and he had the decency to raise a hand, but didn’t stop his progress to the elevator. You and Dave stayed up till 3 playing video games and eating pizza and candy and soda until you both felt sick. Dave tried to trick you into watching some gay porn and you hit him in the stomach with a pillow so hard that he puked into his trashcan.

At 3:50am when you were 16, you woke up with a full bladder and parched throat. You were pretty sure you mostly hit the water in the toilet bowl in the dark. You remembered that the sink was full of green liquid, some kind of dyeing experiment, so you felt your way to the main room to get a glass of water. You could see Bro’s form laying out on the futon, passed out with a massive erection tenting his boxers. He moved a little in his sleep when you turned on the faucet, but didn’t wake up. You kept your eyes on the silhouette of his boner against the light of the LEDs as you drank the water. You went back to bed and Dave rubbed his own erection against you, mumbling something about tits, and you moved to the floor.

At 9:04am when you were 17, you were spraying shaving cream onto Dave’s hand while he slept, and Bro walked by on his way to the bathroom. You didn’t acknowledge him. You had reached some sort of silent agreement where he didn’t talk to you and you didn’t talk to him and everything was cool. He didn’t need to interfere with some kid’s dumb pranks, and that was just fine with you. The shaving cream went right into Dave’s open, drooling mouth when he smacked himself to to stop you tickling his nose. He spit it right back out and onto your glasses when he became lucid enough to get revenge. You could faintly hear the shower running in the bathroom while you wrestled with Dave, both of you carefully making sure your crotches didn’t touch.

At 12:00am when you had just turned 18 you were lying in bed at home, staring at the ceiling and wondering when you were going to start feeling like an adult. The scent of cake coming from downstairs was making you dread breakfast, and you thought maybe you could sneak out to Denny’s or something for some fucking eggs and bacon like a normal person.

\--------

At 12:01am when you are one minute into being 18, your phone pings with a text notification. You figure it’s Dave trying to pitch his strip club idea again and you turn it on, holding it close to your face so you can read it without your glasses. The backlight makes you squint and it’s a few seconds before you ca make out the message: “hey babe whatre you up to.” The number isn’t saved in your contacts so you write back “i think you have the wrong number.” and put your phone back on the nightstand. It pings again and you pick it up again out of curiosity.

“this is john right.” the message says.

“yeah, who is this?” you tap out, starting to wonder if maybe someone is trying to prank you.

“its bro. im thinkin about that fat legal ass of yours and damn.”

You stare at the screen, sure this is some kind of joke. Bro barely ever looked at you. How could he possibly know how fat your ass was? Or that it was legal as of three minutes ago. You type out a reply.

“um, okaaaay. hello to you too?”

“yo we should get fucked up and fuck. you feel me. i feel you. i feel you all night long.” his reply comes back almost instantly. You have to stifle a giggle. Holy fuck no way this is real.

“sure ‘dawg’ lets get crunk and do some bump n grind all up on our junks.” you send back, and bury your head in the pillow, snorting with laughter.

The phone chimes and you looked at it through slightly watery eyes.

“hella. im outside with that car you love so much."

Your eyes go wide and you got out of bed. No way. You are definitely going to look out to see an empty street. You just remember to put on your glasses before you pull back the curtain and almost gasp. There it is, that black sports car parked at the curb. Bro is standing illuminated under the streetlamp, leaning against the passenger side with his phone in one hand, the other hand blatantly rubbing his crotch. Your phone goes off and you read the message he just sent.

"ill let you sit in the drivers seat. right on top of my dick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may not be going the way some people had hoped it might, but I couldn't bring myself to make Bro TOTALLY reprehensible. They're both idiots, really.

At 12:06 am Bro looks up from his phone and you quickly duck down below the windowsill, putting your back to the wall. What the hell are you supposed to do about this? You quickly tap at your phone.

“are you...jerking off in front of my house? have you ever even said hello to me before?”

You peek over the edge of the windowsill to see Bro, now using both hands to type on his phone.

“does it look like im jerking off. this is what you do to me babe.” He looks back up, trying to find you and you’re glad your room is dark. You send another message.

“i just think it’s sort of weird that you’re showing up after like, five years of pretty much not speaking to me and expecting me to just hop onto your weiner. can you see where i’m coming from?”

“you werent legal for five years. and i would love to see where youre coming from.” Bro writes back. Wow. he really can’t take a hint can he? You sit back down, trying to figure out what to do. This is incredibly inappropriate, but… Bro is hot, there’s no denying that. You could objectively see that since you were 13. 

But you had sort of written him off ever since then. He was older, he was an adult, and you were just some kid who hung out with his baby brother. Plus he didn’t seem interested in talking to you or looking at you. There was no point thinking about it because it wasn’t going to happen. But now… Your phone pings again and you look down at it.

“cmon dont tell me i drove all the way out to touch that virgin bod and i dont get to even see it.”

You snort, smirking a little and type back. “what makes you think i’m a virgin? see this is what i’m talking about! you don’t even know me.” 

There was a lag in the response now, and you smile to yourself. That one caught him off guard. You’re about to peek back over when the message comes.

“my bad. look we can talk while we bone you can tell me all about yourself.”

You furrow your eyebrows. He seems pretty desperate. Yeah, this is creepy as hell. But...it’s kind of cute. In that way that you should never reveal lest it encourage this sort of fucked up behavior.

“don’t you have anyone else to bone?” you write. You decide not to mention that he should because he’s an attractive guy, not wanting to tip your hand.

“sure. lots. but i been waitin for the right one you know.” Okay. What a fucking weirdo. Still, kind of charming. Gross-charming. You sigh and type to him.

“you said something about getting fucked up?” Hell, if you can get buzzed without paying, you’d be willing to put up with a little creepiness.

The message comes back quickly, and you can almost feel the hopeful desperation. “yeah. what dyou like. i got weed and rum. you want somethin else i can get it. i bet youre into rolling right???” This seems like a sad attempt to connect with you, to prove that he might be able to infer something about you. Nice try, but you roll your eyes and type back.

“what you have is fine. i’ll be down in a minute.”

“sweet.”

You hurry to put some clothes on, not really taking the time to look at what you’re putting on. You’ve snuck out of the house at night before, so you know where to be quiet, which part of the stairs to step on, and that the front door is less squeaky on its hinges than the back door. You push the door closed gently and re-lock it, then turn around to see Bro still sitting against his car. 

He inclines his chin at you and you walk over and punch him in the dick. Not hard. Just enough to hurt a little. You know the right amount of force to use since this is your favorite less-subtle prank. 

“Ow! What the fuck!” Bro doubles over, shoving you away. You’re prepared for this reaction though and manage not to fall back.

“That’s for being a fucking creep. Now get outta the way.” You shoo him from leaning on the door so you can get in, shutting it behind you. You watch him realize he’s fine and stand up straight. He walks around the car and gets in the driver’s side.

“That wasn’t cool,” he says, starting the engine up. You preemptively turn the volume on the stereo down so you don’t have to hear whatever garbage he’s listening to.

“Neither is showing up at my house at midnight,” you say, crossing your arms. Your legs feel a little more squashed this time, your legs are longer than they were when you were in this car at 14. “You seriously drove here to scam on me the minute I turned 18?” 

Bro purses his lips as he drives away from the curb, apparently not having an answer to that. You continue berating him.

“I mean, do you get how weird that is? To be like, ‘Oh look it’s 11:45. Better not be late to John’s butthole becoming legal to enter.’” 

Bro’s shoulders hunch a little. “Sorry,” he mutters. He looks a little ashamed. Good. Though it’s hard to be certain with those shades. Can he even see enough to drive at night?

“How long were you planning this?” You ask, smacking Bro’s hand away when it tries to go for the volume knob. 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Dave mentioned you were turning eighteen a couple weeks ago.”

“And you were all ‘Shit now’s my chance. I know exactly how to woo him.” Bro doesn’t respond and you know that’s just what happened. You sigh. “You said you had rum.”

“Yeah.” The car stops at a stop sign and Bro twists around to dig in the tiny space behind the front seats. He pulls a full, unopened bottle of spiced rum out. You wonder if he picked it up on his way here.

“Cool,” you say, and take the bottle, pulling the plastic seal off. The first drink is sickly sweet and hot, but you’re an accomplished rum-drinker, so it goes down smooth. Maybe Bro asked Dave what you liked. At least he tried with _something_.

“We’re not going to your place are we?” you ask. No way are you doing this anywhere near Dave. 

“‘Course not. I figured we go up to the cliffs.” 

Makeout Point, even though you think you’re the only one that calls it that, thanks to movies.

“No, take me to Denny’s,” you say. 

“Are you for real?” he asks.

“Yes. You owe me.”

“Guess the dickpunch wasn’t enough,” he mutters. 

“Nope,” you say, and take another pull from the bottle.  
\-----

By the time you get to Denny’s you’re feeling a little more at peace with the situation, partly due to the alcohol. Bro is less talkative than you were expecting. You’d thought that maybe the spell was broken, that now that he’s interested he’d pouring filthy phrases into you. But maybe he’s trying to tread lightly due to your reaction, or maybe he’s just better at saying that stuff in text.

In the parking lot, he lights the pipe he brought with him and inhales from it, passing it to you as he holds the smoke in his lungs. You shake your head and push his hand back. You want to keep some portion of your wits about you. Plus, weed tends to make you too giggly to function, and you don’t want the staff at Denny’s to suspect anything. Still, you find a flask in the glove compartment and fill it with rum before going inside with Bro.

“He’s eighteen,” is the first thing Bro says to the waitress, who raises her eyebrows at the pair of you. You wonder if maybe the weed is making Bro paranoid. What a loser. 

“He means it’s my birthday,” you say, forming your words carefully. The waitress smiles this time, and takes your order. A big wink she gives suggests you might be getting more than you asked for, and you steel yourself for having to pretend you’re excited when a piece of cake is brought to you.

You pour some of the rum into your orange juice as soon as no one is looking, and sit back in the cushy booth, feeling pretty good. You got one of those big circular ones, and Bro slides over until your hips are touching.

“Excuse you,” you say, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Shit, are you into S&M or something?” He scoots back, but only an inch or so.

“I’m not gonna touch your dick in the middle of a Denny’s,” you say, drinking your O.J. with much more enthusiasm than you would if it was untreated. 

“Ugh, you’re such a fuckin’ buzzkill.”

“Maybe you would have known that if you had taken the time to you know, acknowledge my existence,” you shoot back, glancing around before dumping more rum into your glass. Bro makes a grab for it but you pull it away. “No, you’re driving.” He tsks like a petulant kid.

“I just thought...you know. What’s the point? Why put myself closer and invite temptation.”

“Temptation!?” You realize you actually said that kind of loudly and lower your voice, “Are you serious? That’s so gross.”

“Would it be less gross if I’d tried to get all the deets from you when you were a kid? Like I was...I dunno, grooming you or something?” 

You lean back in an exaggerated gesture. Grooming! Yeah that would be weird, but still, he could have treated you like a human being. 

He’s quick to catch onto your discomfort, and puts his hands up. “No I mean look. You’ve only been hot for like, the past year, okay.”

Your eyes must have flashed with anger because he’s trying to do damage control immediately. “I mean, you’ve always been a cute kid or whatever, sure but...you know. l didn’t really give a shit.”

You think about it for a bit as your pile of eggs and bacon are brought out. That’s sort of how you had felt, wasn’t it? Bro was hot, but he was an adult and you were a kid, so there wasn’t anything to be done about it. But now everything was above board. You calm down a little and sit normally again to eat your food, 

“You coulda been more subtle about it,” you grumble through a mouthful. 

Bro shrugs as he shovels pancakes into his mouth, then says something indecipherable through them.

\-----

All your orange juice is gone, and you’re feeling much more comfortable with the idea. The waitress brings you a chocolate chip pancake with a candle in it and you blow it out, then cut it up so it looks like you ate at least some of it. Bro pays the bill, and you feel a little lightheaded when you stand up from the booth, though the food has soaked up most of the damage. You walk carefully back to the car and sigh pleasantly as you sit down in the passenger seat.

Bro is looking at you, and you can almost see his attempt to not look like a pitiful, begging puppydog.

You lick your lips and Bro leans in a little bit. He must really want it. And you sort of do too, you think, you always did. And now you can have it.

“Okay,” you say, “Let’s go to the cliffs.” He starts up the car like his life depends on it and you laugh loudly at him, adding in a mocking voice, “I can’t wait to sit in the driver’s seat.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I'm dragging this out, guys. I'm usually just more interested in the build-up than the actual fucking.

At 1:05am you’re fiddling with the release to recline the carseat, smiling to yourself despite the fact that this thing is fucking stuck and won’t go b- 

“Ah!” All of the sudden you’re looking up through the haze at the ceiling of the car and laughing at the piece of loose upholstery up there. You’ll give Bro some credit, he has some good weed. 

You sit up again and your head smashes into something. Once you’ve got your bearings you realize it was Bro. He was leaning over you to try and get up in your business and you smacked into his head. Now he’s sitting back in his seat and rubbing his forehead.

“You’re a serious fuckin’ health hazard,” he says while you try to hold your giggles back.

You get a little distracted looking out over the city on the other side of the windshield. Little points of light twinkling in the dark, another field of stars just below the one in the sky. 

You’re just getting into the meat of what this could mean for existence as a whole when you feel pressure on your crotch and look down. A gloved hand is rubbing you, coaxing. It feels kind of good. You clamp your thighs around it. 

“Will you wait a second?” you complain, squeezing the hand between your legs, feeling Bro’s fingers wiggling in struggle. He really is way too eager. 

“C’mooonnn,” he whines, his other hand coming in to get in the action and you smack it away. 

“You first,” you say, nodding at his own crotch, “Let’s see your dick.” You’ve always been curious, ever since you saw that bulge that one night. You let his hand go and he hurries to comply.

He’s taking forever to get the tight jeans undone, so you pick up the pipe and the lighter again, taking another hit and adding to the already acrid cloud of smoke floating in the car. Your gaze drifts back to the cityscape. Each light is a star, and the people who need it to see are the planets orbiting around it...yeah…

Bro clears his throat and you turn to him. He’s got the smuggest smirk you’ve ever seen on his face, and you look down at his lap. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep down what wants to come up. But Bro starts to stroke himself and you can’t hold back.

You burst out laughing, giant guffaws that take up whole breaths, then longer, sustained cackles that crack in your throat. You fall back against the reclined seat, your hand on your forehead, eyes closed. It’s not enough to get the hilarity out so you draw your knees in and thump your feet against the glove compartment again and again. No way...no fucking way.

“Dude…” Bro says, and he sounds a little hurt. Okay, that’s totally warranted, really. But seriously! “Dude, quit kickin’ my car. What’s so goddamn funny?” he asks, and you open your eyes and get another glance at his groin and snort out another laugh. 

“It’s…” you start, and your stomach is starting to hurt. “It’s…” You’re both looking down now, you unable to take your eyes off of it and him probably trying to figure out what’s wrong. “It’s so big!” you finally force out. Bro breathes on audible sigh of relief. Seriously, how could he be insecure?

“How the fuck…?” You shake your head in disbelief as you try to imagine that log going into you, “How the fuck do you even…” It’s no use, you roll over and bury your face in the headrest, pounding the little shelf thing under the back window with your fist, your toes kicking the dashboard.

“This really isn’t how I’d pictured this goin’,” Bro says flatly. You try with all your might to compose yourself, but there’s a smuppet in the back that’s staring right in your line of sight so you close your eyes again.

“What? You thought within five minutes of you showing up I’d be bent over hood of your car, begging for you to keep shoving that fat hog into me? Moaning like a pornstar all ‘Bro! Bro! Oh my god! Give it to me! I want it all! Pound my virgin pucker with your cheesey footlong!’”

Now Bro is laughing with you and you’re glad that he’s loosening up a little. After you’ve used up all your giggle energy, you sit up again and try to look at Bro’s cock a little more objectively. It’s just sort of out there, huge and obscene, waiting. What are you even supposed to do with all that?

Bro is still laughing when you reach over and poke the tip with your finger. It’s warm and slightly moist. Bro falls silent again, looking at you with what you imagine is hope in his shaded eyes. “It’ll go in,” he says softly, almost desperately. “Just gotta go slow…”

You consider this. The two of you contorted in the confines of the car, the minutes stretching out indefinitely while your anus does the same, waiting and waiting. You can already feel the impatience. Maybe eventually, but that’s not really how you want to celebrate becoming a man. You let your drug-enhanced brain wrap around the situation, unpacking it and twisting it, looking for solutions.

Suddenly it comes to you. You don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. Probably because it seemed so set in stone how this was meant to go. You bite your lip mischievously and lean over to wrap your hand around Bro’s dick. It’s really thick, you marvel as your hand moves up and down. Yeah, no way this is going in you any time soon. 

Bro has leaned back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He’s probably just relieved something is finally happening. Oh, something’s gonna happen alright, you think to yourself, and your grin grows a little wider. You tug his pants down a little more and he wiggles his hips helpfully. You move your hand down to the base while the other one fondles his ball-sac. Bro hums in appreciation as you bend down to swirl your tongue around the head. It’s kind of sweaty and gross-tasting, but that’s okay. You know the hazards involved in cock-sucking. 

Your hand kneads at his scrotum, fingers brushing against his taint. You get a totally awesome idea and find the bottle of rum. Your mouth is super dry from smoking, so you pour some over Bro’s cock. He hisses, the hand he has in your hair gripping and tugging. You don’t mind, and just get down to lapping up the alcohol. it makes the whole act a lot more enjoyable. 

There’s no way you’re fitting the whole thing in your mouth so you just use your tongue and lips, kissing teasingly at the head and opening up like you just might try to shove it down your throat. Then you close your lips and run them down the shaft instead, sucking up the little droplets of moisture. 

The edge of your seat is between your legs so you rub yourself back and forth against it, humping the upholstery with your growing erection. You stop squeezing Bro’s testicles and let your fingers creep back further along his taint, feeling the heat and sweat of male grossness in such a dark, private place. 

Bro doesn’t seem to notice that you’re practically diddling his asshole for a few moments, your finger feeling over the micro-folds of skin. When you start to try pushing in though, he jerks, pulling your head off of his cock to give you a serious fucking look.

You lick your lips, smiling wide and nodding. Oh yes, you say with your eyes, fluttering your lashes with a parody of allure. “Come on Bro.” You try to think of something as gross as the things he was typing to you earlier. “I wanna see that big cock of yours flopping around while you bounce on my lap.” 

He bites his lip, his brow furrowing in possible outrage, but the tip of your finger slips into him and your squeeze his dick. The way his mouth forms into a soft “o” confirms it: You’re going to fuck his big, dumb ass.


	4. Chapter 4

At 1:33am, your head is pressed against the roof of the car as you try to maneuver Bro’s stupidly long legs around you. How did he ever think this would work in here? You at least need a minivan for this kind of thing. 

You’ve tried a few positions, but there’s always a problem. When you went with your first plan you realized that he would need to be decapitated to comfortably sit on your lap. Both your heads were pressed against the front and back windshields when you tried a more horizontal version of the cowboy position. And now its becoming apparent that if you want to do missionary you’re going to have to be pressed right up against him and use the shallowest thrusts, which isn’t that appealing. Plus his foot keeps hitting the stereo and changing the music you insisted he not get to pick.

It’s too hot, too close, too smoky in here, and you’re starting to get fed up with it. Bro accidentally knees you in the ribs and that’s it. You open the door and spill out onto the grass. You take a deep breath of the fresh air and your head spins.

“What’s the problem?” Bro says, sticking his head out the door. He’d been reluctant at first, but once he’d gotten used to the idea, he seemed to be practically gagging for it.

“Your car’s too small,” you say, sitting up and getting your bearings. You look around at the deserted parking lot. Well...why not? “Get out here,” you order. Bro looks around too, then scrambles out to join you on the grass. He’s sort of like a big, dumb, loyal dog that won’t stop humping your leg. 

“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” you say, looking at the city lights in the distance again. Bro gives them a glance and then resumes groping you. 

“Yeah, cool,” he says, fingers fumbling with your fly for what must be the fifth time. You sigh. Better stop making him wait.

It’s sort of hard to stand up with your boner making things awkward, plus you being more than a little tipsy, but you use the car and Bro’s shoulder to steady yourself, then move over to the front bumper. You lean against the hood, facing the city and start to unbutton your shorts. 

Bro is there with you in seconds, dumping a pile of condoms and lube sample packets on the hood of the car next to you.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?” Bro says, his eyebrows raised in a pleading expression. 

You purse your lips, a habit you picked up from Dave, and put your hand on his already mussed hair. “Blow me,” you say, and push him down.

You examine the condoms while he gets onto his knees and yanks your underwear down. They’re all Triple XL Magnums, of course. You’re a little below average in the size department, and there’s no way one of these monsters is going to stay on you. 

“Mmm!” you hum pleasantly as Bro immediately fits all of you in his mouth. He must not do this a lot, because it’s not the best, but he’s getting the job done. You keep one hand fisted in his hair as he slobbers on you, and the other one retrieves your trusty stash from your wallet. This will fit you much better, and you place the foil packet gently on top of Bro’s head. You laugh at the image, then groan as he gives you a particularly quality lick. 

You take a moment to just enjoy this, your hands back behind you on the hood of the car, looking out at the lights that keep enchanting you and pushing your hips against Bro’s face. This is pretty good, you decide. 

\----

At 1:47am, Bro is making some really interesting sounds as you twist your fingers inside him. He’s switched places with you, his back on the hood of the car as you work his tight ass open. He doesn’t look quite as cool, his bottom half nude, hairy legs spread and absurdly huge junk seeming ambivalent about whether it wants to shrivel in on itself or fill to rock hard rigidity. It’s kind of a nice revenge to see the guy like this after all those years of him being aloof and downright rude to you.

You bite your lip as your fingers (wrapped in one of the Magnum condoms) reach in to curl against his walls. Bro makes a shuddery sort of mewl, and your cock is pulsating with need to get into that tight channel.

“Don’t make me do all the work here,” you breathe, and hand him a few of the lube packets. His hands shake as he tears them open and he begins to pour them onto your dick. It’s taking like fifteen of these things to get enough moisture, and you wonder why he doesn’t just invest in a bottle.

His hands feels good, completely encircling your modest erection, spreading the lube over it. He’s mixing pina colada and strawberry kiwi flavor, but you’ve got watermelon and chocolate in his ass, so it’s just going to be a really fucked up lube smoothie no matter what. It’s the kind of thing you might dare Dave to drink if you came upon such a bounty of disgustingly sweet sex aide yourself.

Finally you’re sick of waiting, and you pull your fingers out with a sick squelching sound and a cute little grunt from Bro. “Okay,” you say, shaking the condom off of your fingers onto the ground and brushing his hands away from you so you can guide yourself in.

Bro is tensing up. “Who’s got the virgin bod now?” you tease as you push the tip against his hole, and he gives you a look you can’t quite decipher. So you lean in and watch his expression become a lot more clear, overwhelmed and shocked as you invade him. 

It doesn’t take you long to find your hips pressed against his ass cheeks and his knees clenching your sides. Your hands are next to his as you support yourself on the hood of the car and look into his shades. “Take them off,” you say, your voice low and commanding. His eyebrows raise and he complies immediately. 

Suddenly you’re looking into his strange orange eyes, bloodshot from the weed and dilated with arousal and because of the darkness. You hadn’t planned on it, but you lean in and kiss him, mashing your lips against his as you start to pull your hips back. He makes a weird, pained sort of groaning noise as you start thrusting, and you jam your tongue in between his lips, invading him here too.

The only thing you can clearly think as you buck into him is that his ass feels really, really good. You could do this all day.

“Ergh!” Bro grunts as you push into him a little harder. He looks like he can barely stand it. His cock is getting hard again, too huge and heavy to stand up on its own. It droops against his thigh instead, and you lower your head to spit on it. You miss by a mile and a splat of saliva lands on his stomach instead. You giggle to yourself and wipe it up with your fingers before wrapping them around his dick, pumping it in time with your hip-thrusts.

He’s panting so fast it sounds like hyperventilating, and when he moans loud it echos, and some birds take flight from the nearby trees. 

“Don’t scare the birds,” you scold, and smack him across the face on a whim. He whimpers and you feel something warm and wet against your cheek. You look down. Holy shit, he came. Gobs of jizz are dripping off of your face back onto his gigantic dick and your hand struggling to close around it. “You’re fucked up,” you decide, and thrust harder into him. He whimpers again, laying out flat against the hood of the car as he lets you have your way with him. 

It doesn’t take you long to reach orgasm. You never had very good stamina. You flop down on top of him and hum against his warm, heaving chest, absently listening to the crickets and the music issuing from the open door or the car.

\-------

At 1:50am, when you’re picking empty lube packets off of the ground, you hear another weird, pitiful little sound from Bro and look up.

“My car…” he says mournfully, and runs his hand over a wide, shallow dent in the hood where his ass had been a few minutes ago. You giggle and pat him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll come out. Not sure about this though,” you say, your fingers finding a spot of semen on the hem of his shirt. Bro makes another indignant noise and you can’t help but laugh as you lean in to press your lips to his big, beefy arm.

You make him do four different sobriety tests before you let him get behind the wheel. “Good boy,” you say, patting him on the head when he successfully touches his nose with his finger. He looks at you in confusion and you laugh openly at him and push him towards the car.

You sit back in drowsy contentment as he starts the engine, closing your eyes and looking forward to getting into bed.

\-----

At 2:12am you’re jostled awake as the car stops in front of your yard. You stretch and hum, looking out the window at your house. No lights on. That means Dad is still sound asleep. Another successful caper. You turn to find Bro looking at you.

“Guess I’ll see you later?” he says, somewhat tentatively. You give him a complacent smile. You’re pretty pleased with how tonight went, especially given how it started.

“Don’t ever text me shit like that again,” you say. Bro frowns, and you add, “I wanna hear your dumb voice.” Now he just looks confused.

You lean in a little and he does the same. You pull back and give his cheek a sharp, biting slap. You cackle and get out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you. You don’t look back, but wave in his general direction as you trot across the lawn.

Back in your bed, you find that asinine text conversation and save Bro’s number in your contacts, then call Dave’s phone. You leave him a message consisting of nothing but your best imitation of Bro’s sex noises. You refuse to explain it when he asks the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it feels good to complete something. I'll be doing Shipping Olympics stuff during summer for Team Guardians, and hopefully I'll produce some stuff I feel is worthy of putting here. Hope you enjoyed, and happy very belated 4/13!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I don't know. I just really like gross, sloppy, teen drinking and humping. And Bro being a tremendous idiot/creep/emotional masochist. Irresponsible behavior all around. 
> 
> Inspired in no small part by critiquemydickpic.tumblr.com

At 4:03 pm, you’re sitting in government class, bored out of your mind, thinking about anything other than checks and balances when you feel your phone vibrating against your ass. You jolt a bit in surprise and look around. Half the class are concealing their phones under their desks, thumbs busy, so you slip yours out of your pants.

There’s a text from Bro. “thinking bout you and your sweet ass.” with an image attached. You open it up and have to bite your tongue when it loads in all its fleshy glory. Oh jeez. You glance around again, but nobody is paying attention. 

You look back to your phone in your lap. The positioning makes it look like the dick pic is bizarrely your own. A digital cock between your legs.

You recognize Bro’s absurd length and girth, fully erect. It’s cropped so its the only body part you can see against a black background, possibly the upholstery of his car seat. The other main feature of the photo is a bottle of orange soda, held along the shaft for a size comparison. You roll your eyes. You already know how big it is.

“this is the least sexy thing i’ve ever seen. f-” you type back and hit send. You turn your phone dark and wedge it between your thighs because the teacher is coming around, passing back essays.

Your phone buzzes between your legs, and it feels way hotter than Bro’s message. You can’t look yet because the teacher is right next to you, handing you your paper. You’re pleased to see that you made a much better grade than Bro did.

Once the teacher’s gone you pull your phone out again to see what Bro has to say. Oh boy, another picture. “hows this.” It’s...a little better, you guess. He’s got his hand wrapped around it this time, his thumb resting against the tip. But the soda bottle is still there, laying on his thigh, an ever present reminder that yes, it is indeed pretty big relative to the plastic cylinder. You think you can see a little bit less orange liquid in it.

“you know what’s hot? NOT orange soda. i know how big it is dude. i was there. i saw it. d+.” you type. You put your phone back between your legs. Maybe a little closer to your crotch than before. 

You’re barely done shoving your graded essay into the oubliette of your backpack when the phone gives your cock another pleasant little alert. 

“you make me drip dude.” You bite the inside of your cheek. That’s cool. The pic has him demonstrating this fact, thumb just barely pulling a bit of connected precum away from the head of his dick. You can see the glove compartment in the background, and his leg stretched out over the gearshift in the center and across the passenger seat. You can just make out the edge of the orange soda bottle in the cup holder.

“youre a drip. c+.” you type back, but damn if you aren’t sporting a semi now. Hopefully it goes away before the bell rings in...shit, five minutes.

You still can’t resist putting your phone right against your groin as you wait for his reply. It’s too close to the end of school to try to keep the class in line, so the teacher has surrendered and is letting the students talk amongst themselves. You toss a wad of paper at Dave a few desks away, who looks up from his “rhyme book” to catch your eye. You point at him and poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek, moving it time to the circle you’ve made out of your hand, mimicking fellatio. He flips you off and turns back to his raps as you feel your phone vibrating through the layer of denim separating you from it.

“i wanna fuck you.” This is the best one of the bunch. He’s showing off a bit of his abs, his hand laying against the muscles and his dick propped up against his thigh. You’re about to give him a B when you notice the sliver of sky you can see through the windshield in the pic. You can see the corner of a familiar marquee...the one that announces that it’s drunk driving awareness week every spring.

“ARE YOU IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL?????” you send him. You look out the window, even though the classroom faces the back field rather than the front lawn. Holy shit, how fucking stupid can he get, jerking off in front of the high school? 

Everyone has their phones out, and you’re only keeping yours concealed in case he sends more pictures of his cock when the bell rings. Your phone goes off and you keep it under your desk as you open the message.

“waiting for you.” No picture this time. At least he seems to have realized what he was doing is the fucking worst.

You shake your head and put your phone in your pocket, packing your stuff up and going over to Dave’s desk.

“‘Sup?” you say, standing a little awkwardly to try to hide your insistent half-boner. 

“I got Slam Poetry Club today,” he says, and punches you right in the man-boob, just enough to sting a little.

You grab for his wrist, but it’s already gone, so you step on his foot. “Have fun, dork,” you say, and hurry out of the classroom before he can retaliate.

You consider going out the back way, leaving Bro waiting in his car for who knows how long. But...he’s got you a little riled up now. Plus, he needs to be told off for having his pants down on school property.

You march out the front door and spot his sports car waiting by the curb. Apparently hanging out in his car and texting is his one move. 

You walk over and open the passenger side door and get in.

“Hey,” he says, his arm slung over the steering wheel. His pants are on, thankfully, and as you take your calculus textbook out of your bag you note the now-empty orange soda bottle in the cup holder. 

“Hi,” you say, and then proceed to whap the heavy textbook against his shoulder a few times.

“What the hell, ow!” Bro protests, shrinking back against the driver side window and throwing up his hands in self defense.

“What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing!” You punctuate each word with another hit to his thighs or his palms. “YOU. CAN’T. JERK. OFF. IN. FRONT. OF. SCHOOL.” 

“Okay, okay!” Bro says, finally grabbing the book and yanking at it. You keep your grip though and are pulled towards him. This probably looks pretty weird to anyone walking by outside. Better than Bro with his junk in his hands in front of a bunch of kids though.

“Why are you such a giant idiot?” you ask through your teeth. Your knee finds its way between his legs to grind painfully against his dick. It’s still hard.

“Sorry,” Bro says, with a gasp, grimacing. He lets go of the book and pushes you away instead. You find your ass back in the passenger seat. “Just wanted to surprise you.”

“And get arrested in the process,” you grumble, and shove your book back into your backpack. You sit back in against the seat, taking a breath after the struggle. “You should buy me some beer.”

Bro watches you warily out of the corner of his eye as he starts the car. “Uh, I already did,” he says, jerking his thumb towards the back. You look over to see a couple of six packs waiting on the floorboard. You decide not to point out that having that on school grounds is also illegal.

You pull your phone out and start to delete the pics Bro sent you.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Bro says, sounding offended as he pulls out of the lot.

“These are all shitty,” you say. You pause at the last one, then decide to delete it anyway since it’s the one that most clearly points to Bro sending dickpics in front of the school. “I thought you were supposed to be good at taking pictures of dicks.”

“I usually take pics of other people’s dicks,” Bro says, as if that’s any excuse. “I could take some of yours,” he suggests, his hand creeping from the gearshift to your thigh. You bring your fist down on his knuckles and he pulls away with a tsk.

You reach into the back to pull a couple of the beers out of their plastic rings. It’s mid-tier stuff. Still watery but it won’t take a million for you to feel something. You put them between your legs, feeling the cold aluminum through your cargo shorts. “You’re such a skeez,” you say. 

Once Bro has officially left school property you take out your keyring and stab one of the cans with your house key. Some white froth spurts out of the hole near the bottom of the can. Bro groans as some of it spills onto the seat but you tell him to shut up before you put your mouth over the hole and pull the tab. You tilt your head back and swallow the beer, feeling the cold liquid gush down your throat at an accelerated rate.

Bro keeps glancing at you as he drives. You gasp for breath as the last of the alcohol clears your gullet. “Eyes on the road, chump,” you say, relaxing in your seat and licking your lips. You could get used to this. A reliable source of booze and orgasms. Maybe you can keep this up till you turn 21. Bro seems to have it bad enough for you to hang on that long.

You think about asking Bro where he’s going, but decide you don’t really care, and just shotgun the second beer, issuing a comfortable belch when you finish. You discard the empties onto the floorboards under your feet. You squirm a bit, your stomach feeling full of ice cold beer, your cock perking up at the very thought of whatever you and Bro might get up to this afternoon.

Your mind drifts as the alcohol starts to set in, making you feel just a little bit lighter, and you find yourself giving Bro the elevator eyes as he drives. It’s not creepy when you do it though, cause you’re younger. And not a creep. You grab another beer and drink it with a little more civility as you flip through the radio, going through the whole dial twice before settling on the classical station. 

Bro abruptly stops and puts the car in park. You look up from digging around in the glove box and rubbing your thighs together against your erection. 

“Are you serious?” You ask, giving Bro an incredulous look. Bro glances from you to the dumpsters on either side of the car. You’re in an alley. A fucking alley. With garbage. And greasy puddles of who-knows-what in the street. “You could have taken me to your apartment, Dave’s doing his club shit.”

Bro rubs the back of his neck and undoes his seatbelt. “I got my cams running. People get pissed if they go off.” Well, at least he’s being smart about one thing. You definitely don’t want to be on cam...although… The thought of you totally owning Bro for all his weirdo subscribers to see is kinda hot. But you wouldn’t risk being recognized.

“Still, you could have picked somewhere a little more…” What? Romantic? You guess that would be kind of lame too. And there are probably hikers and stuff out at the cliffs. You sigh and slug the rest of your beer, dropping it to the floor with the others. “You’re the worst.”

Bro starts to undo his pants, seemingly undeterred. Or...you’re starting to get the feeling he likes being talked down to like this. Fucking freak, but at least it means it’s easy to get him off. You don’t have to modify your behavior much. 

You get another beer, feeling just on the cusp of that perfect sloshy feeling. Bro licks his lips, looking at the can and he opens his mouth to say something.

“No way, designated driver,” you say, and take a long pull from the can, giving an exaggerated “Ah!” afterwards. He purses his lips, pulling his underwear down to take hold of that ridiculous dick of his. You look at it, taking another mouthful of beer and swishing it around thoughtfully in your mouth. “Well. Maybe just a sip,” you say, and reach over across his lap, letting your arm hair graze the head of his cock. You find the lever and pull, making the driver seat fall back. 

Bro makes a noise and you lean over him. “Open your mouth,” you say. He complies. You take another mouth full of beer and you move in, positioning your mouth over his. You open your lips and let the beer fall out of your mouth into his. You curl your tongue into a sluice and watch the stream trickle down into his waiting lips. Bro groans and puts his hands on your ass, squeezing. Your cock stiffens a little more, and you use one hand to knead at the front of your pants as you pull another mouthful of beer from the can. 

Bro opens his mouth wider, ready to receive, but this time you purse your lips and force the beer between them, spraying Bro’s face with a shower of weak alcohol. He flinches and grips your ass tighter. You laugh and lower yourself down to grind against him. He hisses at the feeling of the rough denim against his cock. 

You lean in and lick some of the beer off his chin, feeling his stubble sharp on your tongue. His hands move around to undo your pants and you let him. You wipe a few droplets off his shades with the back of your hand while you finish the can.

He tenses, expecting you to spit on him again, but you just give another huge “Ahhh!” and toss the can over your shoulder. You suck some more beer off the corner of his jaw and run a hand through his now-damp hair. 

You wish you had some of those tearaway stripper pants, but as it is you have to move off of his lap to get them off comfortably. Bro takes off his shades and wipes them on the dry part of his shirt, looking a little dazed. He’s so in your pocket it’s not even funny. Except you’re laughing as you kick your jeans off and look at his still-dripping face. 

You grab his sunglasses and stow them in the glove compartment, climbing back astride his lap before he can do anything about it. You lay on top of him, biting your lip as you feel his gargantuan cock throbbing under your smaller one. 

“Ungh, I want you,” Bro grunts as he starts to jerk his hips against you.

“No shit,” you say, meeting him thrust for thrust. Your stomach doesn’t feel cold anymore. It feels full and warm, and it’s spreading throughout your body till you feel like you’re on fire. Your lips find Bro’s and mash against them sloppily. He meets your tongue with his own, his breath harsh on your cheek, loud in your ear. You could almost forget you’re doing this in a super gross alleyway. 

Bro’s hand finds your ass again while the other wraps around his insane girth and your own modest one. His fingers search your cleft and you pull his hair with both hands until he whines and retreats to just squeeze your cheeks some more. You’re not going to let him fuck you until he takes you someplace nicer. 

You bite at Bro’s lip and suck as you feel your orgasm building. Your head hits the roof of the car as you sit up, but you just squirm out of Bro’s grasp and shimmy your way up his torso till you’re bent awkwardly over his face, your head pressing against the back windshield. 

You grab your cock and jerk frantically, making an admittedly kind of pathetic little noise as you spill your jizz onto Bro’s face. Bro’s own sounds drown it out, half disgusted, half incredibly turned on. 

You squeeze the last few drops out, resting the head of your dick against Bro’s lips. He flicks his tongue out against you and you ball your fist up, even that little touch almost too much post orgasm. 

You sigh and roll off of him, sitting back in the passenger seat. You grab another beer and watch with mild, sleepy interest as Bro jacks himself off. You pull up his shirt so you can watch his semen spurt against his chest and slide down those abs you had admired on your phone. 

“Phew,” Bro breathes, shaking his head a bit, drops of beer flinging off his hair and onto your glasses. You punch him in the ribs and then spit another mouthful of beer on him while he puts his monster cock away. 

You get out of the car and pee against one of the dumpsters for a really long time.

You know you probably shouldn’t, but you finish the last of the six-pack off while Bro drives you home. It’s one thing to get drunk in the middle of the night, it’s another when your dad is waiting for you to come home, making dinner. But it seems like a waste to leave it. 

You add the empty can to the pile as Bro slows down near your house.

“Drop me at the corner,” you say, suppressing another burp. You feel really tipsy now, and really fucking good. School would be a lot less stressful if you could end every day like this. Bro complies and brakes at the corner, putting the car in park. 

You undo your seatbelt slowly, not really wanting to get out. “Try not to get pulled over,” you say with a laugh, the jumble of cans clinking together loudly at your feet. “Probably looks a little suspicious.”

“Smells suspicious too,” Bro says, running a hand through his sopping hair in the rearview mirror. You hadn’t thought about that. Hopefully you can bypass Dad and get to the shower before he smells the beer stink on you. 

You smack Bro across the face. You’re thinking of making it a tradition every time you part ways. “That’s for jacking it in front of school. Serously can’t believe you,” you say with a bit of a slur. Oh boy, you’re definitely drunk. “Don’t drink that other six pack,” you say, “That’s mine.”

He nods, and you smile at the red mark appearing on his cheek. You retrieve his shades and put them back on his face. They’re a little crooked and you laugh because he looks stupid and wet. You lean in and kiss him this time. He puts his hand on the back of your neck and you bite his lip until you think you’re about to draw blood. 

You have to steady yourself as you step out of the car, one hand on the roof of the car as you stand on the curb. It’s just a half a block to the house, and you’ve walked in worse conditions. Just not in the daytime. You make your way slowly and carefully down the sidewalk, hoping you just look thoughtful instead of wasted. 

You don’t hear the engine of Bro’s car starting up till you’re opening the door to your house. Your phone buzzes as your dad calls a greeting to you from the kitchen. You yell back a quick “hi,” before rushing up the stairs, holding tight to the banister so you don’t fall. 

You wait till you’re in the bathroom with a fresh change of clothes before you check your phone.

“is this better.” Bro’s text reads, and you open the picture, grinning to yourself. It is better. Like he actually put some thought into it. With his hands and abs included, and a nice filter over it, it manages to look sexy even when flaccid. You save it in your gallery.

“b+” you send him, and start the shower.


End file.
